The Siege of Arkenbrand
by eshinseer
Summary: A Skaven attack on a city of the Empire. All comments, suggestions etc welcome! (Note: some slight errors may have occurred when this was uploaded, so they're not my fault)
1. Something in the Sewers

Hans shivered slightly as he made his way through the sewers beneath the city of Arkenbrand. Holding aloft a flaming torch in his left hand, and his battered iron sword in his right, he scanned the sides of the sewer tunnels for signs of movement. The flickering of the torch cast eerie shadows upon the walls, making Hans wish he was back in the comfort of his house, rather than down here, running a fool's errand.  
  
Once again Hans cursed his misfortune. He had been the only one in the guard house when old Jeremiah had burst inside, screaming at the top of his lungs about the rat-men who infested the tunnels beneath the city, who were planning to launch an attack some time soon. Hans would have simply ignored him, had it not been for the growing crowd converging around the guard house door. Feeling bound by duty to put their fears to rest, he had set off into the sewers, to prove that there was nothing unnatural stirring there.  
  
He was unsure of how long he had been down in the sewers. It seemed as though he had been there for hours, although it was probably little more than a few minutes. He had just decided to turn back - after all, he hadn't found anything strange, so who could complain? - when his ears picked up a sound in the distance, echoing from the walls of the sewers. It was a steady, rhythmic beating, similar to a drum. But who - or what - could be beating a drum down here? At the back of his mind, a niggling little thought formed, and he remembered the ravings of old Jeremiah. Taking a deep breath, he pushed this thought to the back of his mind, and walked onwards.  
  
Turning a corner, he witnessed a sight that very nearly made him retch. Indeed, a lesser man would have, but Hans wasn't one of the highest ranking officers in the town guard for nothing, and he had seen his fair share of dead bodies. Even so, this particular body was - it was just wrong. It was a human, but only just recognisable. Many of the limbs, as well as the head, had been forcibly removed, essentially leaving just a torso. Into the naked flesh had been inscribed runes of some sort. Hans was not a well- learned man, but even he could tell that these runes were a source of Dark magic. In addition to the runes, small chunks of glowing green stone had been hammered into the flesh, causing the skin around them to rot and decay, and giving off a foul stench which permeated every inch of Hans' clothing.  
  
At this point, Hans felt a strong, completely rational urge to go back, to leave the sewers. Indeed, this would have been the most sensible course of action - to inform the other town guards of what he had seen, and to organise an official search of the sewers. But Hans had always been curious, and, pushing aside his fear, he ventured onwards, towards the ever louder sounds of drum-beats.  
  
As he walked onward, Hans noticed that the light from his torch was steadily growing dimmer, as the flame began to die out. The smaller light caused the shadows around him to grow larger and larger. Despite his limited imagination, it was impossible for Hans not to think of creatures that could be lurking in these shadows. All the monsters from his childhood nightmares could be lurking here, all the creatures he had laughed about, thinking they didn't exist. Down here, all could be real. They could be lurking around the next bend, waiting to feast on him. He could die down here, all alone, and no-one would ever know.  
  
With a strength of will that even Hans himself did not know he possessed, he managed to shake these thoughts from his mind. He tried to focus his mind on happier things, such as his wife, and his young son. The boy was only seven years old, but he could already wield a sword with some competence, and Hans hoped that he would follow in his father's footsteps. He was continuing in this line of thought when he noticed the noise, or lack of it.  
  
The drumming had stopped. Hans had been so deep in his thoughts that he had not noticed. As he approached the next turning in the sewer, he imagined that he could hear voices chattering, sometimes raised as if in argument. The voices sounded human, but strangely high-pitched, and were occasionally punctuated by irritated squeaking. The ravings of old Jeremiah, which Hans had pushed deep into his mind, now resurfaced again, reminding him of the so-called "rat-men".  
  
"Pull yourself together man," he muttered to himself, "you're imagining things now. Whatever would the lads think if they could see you now? It's probably just a few rats. Aye, that'll be it. Rats." Steadying his arm, which was shaking uncontrollably - due to the cold, he told himself, not fear - he stepped round the corner.  
  
Instantly he realised that he had been right about the voices, and that he had been wrong to carry on this far down into the sewers. He also realised - albeit dimly - that old Jeremiah had been right about the rat-men. For a veritable horde of them filled the sewers before him - a seething mass of fur and steel. Each of them was about the height of a man, but their bodies were hunched over, making them appear shorter. From their gnarled hands they held rusted swords and shields, and rotting leather armour was strapped to their bodies. They were covered in fur - varying shades of brown, grey and black - and their tails whipped around their bodies, lashing at each other in impatience.  
  
As if hearing some silent signal, the squabbling rabble fell silent. Hundreds of pairs of glowing red eyes fixed intently upon Hans, each portraying a feeling of deep hatred and hunger. Suddenly, the wall of rat- men parted, and a shorter figure shuffled through, leaning heavily on a staff made of twisted and decayed wood. This figure was accompanied on either side by tall albino rat-men, wearing rusted metal armour of a higher quality than the rest of the creatures, and carrying halberds topped with cruelly curved blades. The smaller creature fixed its gaze upon Hans, and he saw, lurking behind the creature's eyes, a malevolent intelligence, coupled with deep loathing. The creature considered Hans for a few seconds more, before turning away, making its way back through the ranks of rat- men. The two albino rat-men strode purposely towards Hans, lowering their halberds, ready to strike.  
  
Springing into action, Hans lunged at the first of the rat-men, ramming his torch into its face. The smell of singed fur accompanied a high-pitched squeal, which was cut off abruptly as Hans swung his sword in an arc, severing the creature's head from its body. As the dead creature slumped to the floor, the second of the rat-men charged towards Hans. Stepping aside swiftly, he brought his sword crashing down on the creature's head as it passed him, killing it instantly. As he prepared to face the rest of the creatures, Hans heard a soft thud behind him. Before he had time to spin around him, a blade had pierced his back, and tore through his heart.  
  
As the body fell heavily to the floor, Slikritt, assassin of Clan Eshin, pulled out his blade and licked the blood off of it, grinning maliciously. From the back of the horde of rat-men, a cry issued forth. "Forward-forward! Soon the streets of the man-city shall run with the blood of our enemies! The hour has come!" As one, the huge body of Skaven moved forwards, ready to destroy the city above them, which lay blissfully unaware of the danger it now faced... 


	2. The First Attack

It was mid afternoon in the city of Arkenbrand. The sun had reached its zenith, and was now begin to dwindle away towards the west. The city's streets were almost empty, the majority of the inhabitants having retired to their homes in a vain attempt to escape the heat. The only people not inside were the city guard, who were busy patrolling the streets, on the look-out for anything remotely suspicious.  
  
By the entrance to the city's sewer system, a lone figure stood watch. Johann, the youngest of the city guard's new recruits, had been sent there to await the return of Hans. The sun beat down upon his back, making him wish that he was back in the coolness of the guard house. Resentment festered inside him as he pictured his fellow guards, laughing at him as they supped their tankards of ale, while here he was, with hardly any shade to protect him from the sun's rays. He tried to focus his mind on the job at hand, waiting for Hans, but couldn't last long without thinking of the coolness of the guard house. Surely he could go back, he told himself. They would understand, they would know how hard it was to stay in the heat. Surely no one could. no one could blame him. He struggled to stay awake, as he felt waves of fatigue wash over him. He could. could go back. no one would. would mind. at all..  
  
Within seconds of Johann falling asleep, a shadowy figure crept out from the sewers. It glanced around, blinking rapidly as its eyes adjusted to the sunlight. Slowly, softly, it crept towards the body of the sleeping guard, pulling a curved blade out from the recesses of its cloak. With practised ease, it swiftly drew the blade across Johann's throat, killing him instantly. As the blood began to drip to the ground, the creature turned around, signalling to its companions in the sewers. As one, the great body of Skaven moved forward, spreading out over the street. From the centre of the horde came a single figure, taller than the rest. Clad in ornate armour, and carrying in its hands a blade encrusted with glowing green stones, this figure exerted a natural authority over the other rat-men. Pointing its blade down the street, towards the centre of the city, the creature uttered a single word.  
  
"Now."  
  
The Skaven began to move, hacking at each other in their eagerness to spill blood. They entered the houses through every possible entrance, knocking down doors and climbing through windows. The air was filled with the screams of the city's inhabitants, punctuated by the excited chittering of the rat-men. Men, women and children were cut down with cruel efficiency as the Skaven advanced, slaughtering all in their way. An almost unstoppable tide, they marched inexorably towards the centre of the city.  
  
The sounds of the fighting drifted gradually over the city, eventually falling upon the ears of Luther, second-in-command of the city guard, stirring him into action. Jumping to his feet, he set about rousing the other guards into action.  
  
"Come on! On your feet, sluggards! We're under attack!""  
  
Receiving only a series of groans and murmurs in reply, he drew his sword, delivering a stinging blow to the face of the nearest guard with the flat of his blade. With a cry of pain, the young man leapt to his feet, his face a deep crimson.  
  
"That's more like it! Now come on, the rest of you! Hurry!"  
  
Gradually the other residents of the guard house stirred from their reveries, and began to pull on their armour. Luther watched anxiously, well aware that every second they were wasting here was costing the lives of innocent people. Once the majority of the guards were properly equipped, he stepped out into the streets, signalling for his men to follow. They made their way through the main streets, pushing through the masses of fleeing commoners who were seeking to escape the fighting. Gradually the streets emptied, until the guards were the only ones still standing there. At the other end of the street, the Skaven force appeared, a seething mass of vermin. As one, the guards drew their swords, ready to give their lives for the city they had sworn to defend.  
  
The Skaven force was upon them in an instant. Luther's men were outnumbered at least five to one, but held their ground nonetheless. The Skaven attacked with animalistic ferocity, pushing the guards back, further down the street. The guards fought back with unmatched skill, but the situation was hopeless. For every Skaven they killed another one took its place, rat-men scrambling over their dead kin in their lust for blood. Luther stood in the midst of his men, cutting down any Skaven who dared enter within the reach of his blade. Taking stock of the situation, he realised that his men didn't stand a chance. Even as he paused for fought two guards were brought down to the ground, blood gushing from numerous stab wounds. Seasoned veterans were falling alongside new recruits, no match for the ferocity of the rat-men. As the intensity of the Skaven attack increased, the guards began to fall more swiftly, withering away under the furious onslaught. Within minutes only Luther was left. The Skaven seemed wary of him, none daring to step within a few metres of him. The musk of fear hung heavily over the front few ranks of the Skaven horde, their tails twitching in agitation.  
  
As Luther watched, he saw the ranks of rat-men part for a moment, allowing a tall, lean figure to push through. Over its right eye it wore a dark green eye-patch, while the other eye regarded him curiously. The figure, clad from the neck downwards in ornate armour, began to circle Luther, the cloak it wore from its shoulders billowing around it, as though in a breeze. Luther too began to circle, appearing calm and collected on the outside, while on the inside knowing that he faced almost certain death. Almost too quick to see, the creature lashed out with the blade it held in its gnarled hands, Luther just managing to bring his blade up to parry the blow. Seizing the initiative, Luther launched a furious attack, swinging his sword in wide arcs, attempting to force the creature to back away. For a moment the creature seemed to yield in the face of such an onslaught, but then it returned the attack with equal skill and ferocity. Luther, struggling to parry the attacks, failed to notice the creature's tail lash out towards him. It curled around his leg, then pulled back swiftly, jerking Luther off of his feet. Luther had just enough time to see the creature's blade rushing towards him, before bright red pain burst across his eyes, and the blackness claimed him. 


End file.
